Voldermont, Gravestones, and Cookies
by Avalon-S-Dawson
Summary: Voldermont meets someone from his past and we learn why he hates Harry.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Please don't sue.

Voldermont had been looking for it for months and he had finally found it. He carefully opened the chest and revealed all of his old treasures. He had become obsessed with finding this chest as soon as he had recalled its existence. He carefully took out the pictures of his mother and watched as she waved to him. He allowed a rare smile to come to his lips. However, it quickly turned into a sneer as his hatred for his step-father grew and along with it his hatred for all muggles grew. He put the photos aside and looked around the chest a bit more, until he came across a lock of his hair. He remembered when he had cut that lock of his hair. He had been so vain before and now look at him, disfigured and ugly. He looked at the lock of hair a second longer and a plan began to form in his mind.

*******                         

It had been easy enough to get the polyjuice potion. Voldermont had simply ordered it to be made and threatened anyone who asked what the potion was for. Voldermont knew that if he wanted to do this he would have to operate in secrecy. He didn't exactly trust his incompetent minions. Finally he added a few strands of his old hair to the polyjuice potion. He quickly drank the potion and waited, hoping for the best.

He didn't have long to wait. The changes started almost immediately. He looked into the mirror and saw himself, not his current disfigured self but himself in his early 40's, the age he had been when had he cut off a lock of his hair to save.

*********

Voldermont quickly apparated. His time was still limited even if he had had the potion modified to last longer. He took off his robes revealing the simple muggle suit underneath. As much as he hated anything to do with the muggle world he would need these clothes to blend in. He used a spell to shrink his robe and he placed it in his pocket before heading off.

It had been so long since he had been able to come here. He found it hard to get away from all the simpering idiots that followed him and to keep from being seen by the fools that thought him dead. Glowing red eyes and a skeletal physique had left him a bit conspicuous. 

********

He silently bent down to the gravestone and ran his fingers over the name. **_"Rosalyn Riddle"_**He let the memories of her death overwhelm him.

//He had been seven at the time it all happened. His mum had just gotten remarried to a muggle, his birth father having died when he was baby. His mother had met Mr. Riddle at a park in muggle London. His mother had always been quite fond of parks and liked to go out for walks. It wasn't long before they were married. Rosalyn was beautiful and Mr. Riddle adored her. That is until she told him she was a witch. He started to drink and stay out late, and he even started to hit Rosalyn. All Tom could do was watch as his mother was beat. Tom had felt completely powerless, and he vowed that when he got older, he would never feel powerless again. One day Tom returned home from a friend's house and he could hear his step-father yelling at his mother. He wished that he had enough power to take himself and his mother away from his step-father. Tom heard a loud bang come from the living room. Tom opened the door in time to see his step-father sitting on the floor with a gun in his mouth. Mr. Riddle pulled the trigger. Tom could only watch in horror as his step-father's body fell to the floor, his blood staining the carpet crimson. Tom watched in fascinated horror as Mr. Riddle's blood joined another pool of blood. _Another_ pool of blood. Tom realized that he couldn't see his mother in the room. He slowly walked up to the couch. Tom started to cry and scream; there his mother was, lying next to the couch, covered in her own blood. The next thing he remembered was sitting in the police station, answering questions. None of his relatives wanted to take Tom in, so he was sent to the orphanage, where he remained until he received his Hogwarts letter.//

Voldermont half wished that the tears would come, but he had used up all tears long ago. No matter how deep he buried the feelings they always resurfaced when he came to visit his mother. That's why he hated to come here, yet he was drawn back time and time again. This time, however, he needed it. He needed to return his mother's grave to remember why he fought. He was so tired, that sometimes he just wished he could let go and die, but then he would remember what that muggle filth did to his mother and his hatred would grow again.

********

Voldermont was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not hear the other people approach.

"Did you know her?" A voice from behind him asked. Startled, Voldermont's hand went immediately to his wand. He examined the person carefully. It was an old woman of undeterminable age, with so many wrinkles that he wouldn't be surprised if she were well over a thousand. Behind her was a young girl in her twenties.

"Hush. Grandmom, she died well over fifty years ago, I doubt he knew her." The girl said. Voldermont guessed that they were both muggles and he had the urge to take out all his rage on them. However, he wanted to know what the old woman knew of his mother. It was just as well, since he wasn't ready to draw attention to himself, yet.

"I'm older than I look." Was his reply. "And yes I did know her." Voldermont blocked out all thoughts of his mother, he would not let these filthy muggles see his pain.

"She used to be my neighbor for years." The old woman said wistfully. "She was so lovely and she had a darling baby boy, well he wasn't a baby for long. They never are." For some reason Voldermont's mind drifted off to another young boy, one that had been the source of his downfall. That child should be in his 5th year at Hogwarts now.

"It was such a tragedy when she died."  The old woman continued. Voldermont thought about the reason he hated Harry Potter. It was not because the brat had defeated him before or even because of his disgusting mudblood mother.

"I never would have thought that Harry S. Riddle would be capable of such a thing." The old woman concluded. Voldermont just hated his name. He felt his mouth curl into a frightening sneer as he thought of the irony of it; the worst moments of his life were all caused by Harrys.

"Grandmom, we should go know. It's starting to get dark." The young woman said nervously. Voldermont finally recognized the old lady. Her name was Mrs. Applebee. He remembered her baking cookies and pies, and how she always saved him some. He remembered the few times she had babysat him and how she would push him on the swings.

"Mrs. Applebee" He called out to the retreating forms.

"Yes dea-" She was dead before she could finish her sentence.

"Avada Kadavra" He whispered again, and the young woman fell as well. He remembered the useless muggle, that couldn't save his mother.

********

He stepped over the bodies and made his way back to his headquarters, after all the polyjuice potion wasn't going to last forever, and it was starting to rain. That's kind of strange, though, there's not a cloud in the sky and the rain tastes of salt. Oh, it's not rain, it's tears. Only, they can't be since Voldermont had used up all his tears, so it must be rain. Voldermont apparated back as the 'rain' began to blur his vision.


End file.
